Page 4 of Sugar Dusted Dad Bod

Much good it does me.

“Well, fuck that,” I declare to the quiet kitchen, shocking another laugh out of my assistant baker. “You’re done suffering alone, you hear? You need help with something, you come to me. I’ll take care of it.”

I’ll take care ofher.

It would be the greatest honor of my long, lonely life. Even if I take care of Cady until she finally meets the guy she settles down with… that’ll have to be enough for me.

My chest burns as I check on the pain au chocolat. Cady is quiet behind me, icing the gingerbread snowmen in thoughtful silence.

“Thank you,” she says at last, and she sounds so fragile that I get a lump in my throat. Can’t turn around or reply, else I’ll say something we both regret. I grunt instead, reverting to flustered caveman mode. “You’re a really good man, Jasper.”

Yeah… somehow I doubt Cady would think that if she knows the filthy thoughts I get around those auburn braids.

* * *

The Christmas tree ‘farm’ is an old parking lot between a launderette and sex shop with a leather-clad mannequin in the window. The lot has been turned into a maze of Douglas firs, Norway spruces and Scotch pines, the trees bound up in nettingand stood upright in buckets, the snow around them littered with dropped needles.

As we browse the rows so Cady can pick out her tree, more than one person wanders through the lot past us, pretending to check prices on buckets, before scuttling into the sex shop instead. Each time, I snort, and each time, Cady shoots me a wry smile.

“You can go wait in there if you like,” she says, and grins even wider when I boom with laughter. The stars above us twinkle, like they’re in on the joke.

“I’m good.”

“You sure?” Cady nudges my elbow, teasing, and even through our thick winter coats, my nerves spark at that contact. “I bet you’d look great with a ball gag, boss.”

“Watch yourself.” Can’t remember the last time I felt this light—not tired at all, despite the long hours of work. No cares in the world. “Else I’ll have to go in there and buy you a paddle.”

Now, Cady’s blush has always been a thing to behold. It starts beneath her scarf, climbing higher and higher up her delicate throat until it spreads over her cheeks and makes her freckles fade. She pokes her tongue out at me before turning back to the row of trees. “I dare you, Jasper. I dare you.”

And I could never do that. It would truly cross a line—way worse than this shameless flirting, even. Cady is my assistant, and I’ll never do anything to make her life more complicated.

But it’s sweet to think about. The most tempting daydream. Cady, pink-faced and laughing as she sprawls over my lap, so petite compared to my bulk. Cady, nude and writhing. Cady, tilting her hips up, coaxing me to spank a red hand-print onto the perfect curve of her ass. Crying out and twitching. Why use a paddle when I could feel her heat beneath my bare palm?

“Do you think this tree will survive until Christmas?” My assistant baker prods at branches bound up in netting,completely oblivious to the slideshow playing in my brain. With effort, I shake off those thoughts and drag myself back to the present.

“Should do.” I lean closer, inspecting the tree as best I can. I’m a baker, not a gardener, but I know enough to stay away from the trees where the needles are already turning brown. “Looks healthy to me.”

Besides: if it dies, I’ll get Cady another one. Shewillhave an apartment full of holiday cheer, if it’s the last thing I do.

“Let’s get this one, then.” Cady bounces on her toes, excited as a little kid, and that happiness is contagious as I wave one of the sellers over. Cady tries to pay, but I hand the cash over her head before she’s even dug her wallet out.

“What? No!”

“Let’s get this show on the road.” The tree is heavy and awkward, and it takes a minute to balance it against my shoulder. Then I turn on my heel and start marching.

“Jasper! You can’t pay!”

“Sure seems like I can.”

“But this was—you shouldn’t have to—”

“I don’thaveto do anything,” I interrupt, pausing on the slushy sidewalk outside the lot as taxi cabs trundle down the street. “But I want to buy my assistant baker a tree, and I want to carry it home for her, and I want to make her smile. You gonna stop me, Cady? You gonna ruin my night?”

There’s a string of soft curses, then a small hand grips onto my sleeve. Can’t turn to see her with all the branches in the way, but it sure feels good to know she’s there.

“No, I’m not, you big jerk. Thank you.”

I wait for a gap in the traffic, then step out into the road. “Let’s go, then. This shit is heavy.”

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